


I Must Be a Masochist

by bazypitchandsimonsnow (ChessPargeter)



Category: Carry On - Rainbow Rowell
Genre: Angst, Baz brooding, Baz is fucked, Fifth Year, M/M, Pining, Unrequited Crush
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-17
Updated: 2017-05-17
Packaged: 2018-11-01 23:18:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 596
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10932096
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChessPargeter/pseuds/bazypitchandsimonsnow
Summary: Of all the people Baz could fall in love with, it had to be him. The one person he could never have.





	I Must Be a Masochist

**Author's Note:**

> No, this is not BDSM smut. It's just another fifth year!Baz angst fic. Decided to do my own. Enjoy :)

**Baz**

I wonder if I’m a masochist

I mean, it’d make sense. Why else would I fall in love with the one person who hates me more than anyone?

The revelation hit me last night. I’ve made a habit of watching Snow sleep. I convinced myself it was because I needed to keep an eye on him, for the Families. Nowhere in my logic did I factor in that Snow would definitely not be plotting against the old magick aristocrats in his sleep. But I had some sort of mental barrier. Well, more of an emotional one.

I watched his chest slowly rise and fall with every breath. I noted the way the moonlight caught in his bronze curls, making them shine a sort of silvery brown. I studied his freckle and mole covered cheeks. Everything I noticed just made the aching in the pit of my stomach just grew worse.

I’ve always thought that ache was hatred. It had to be. Snow was infuriating. He was clumsy, reckless, inarticulate, irrational, stupid, brave, kind, handso-

My breathing stopped. My unblinking eyes were locked on him. Those kind words invaded my train of thought too easily. Slowly, I  realised they’d always been in the back of mind, sitting in the darkness that was my subconscious, but were only now making an appearance. Like flowers pushing through the Earth’s surface and blooming for all to see.

I clutched the blanket so hard my knuckles went white. Everything started to make sense. Snow wasn’t just an idiot. He was a courageous, beautiful, selfless idiot. He jumped into danger without thinking because he cared more for other people than his own personal safety. He only had two friends but he was so damn loyal to them. He was a dangerously shitty mage but a good person. Far better than me.

The aching wasn’t hatred. It was longing, desire, lust, admiration, the all consuming need to hold Simon Snow in my arms and never fucking let go.

I’ve never been encouraged to closely examine and understand my emotions (have you met my father?), but I knew what that feeling was.

Love. Deep, passionate, stupid love.

 _I’m in love with Simon Snow, I_  thought, over and over again. Like a bloody broken record.

I just kept staring at this perfect golden boy, thinking endlessly about kissing and touching and biting him, until I had to sleep. But when I slept, all I dreamed of was him.

So I must be a masochist. There’s no other explanation. Of all the people in the world, I’ve fallen in love with Simon Snow. The one person I can’t have. Who will never, ever love me back in a million years. I guess I’m gay, too. That’ll _definitely_ go over well with my family. We’ll add it to the “Shit Baz Pitch Has to Deal With” list. (It’s becoming an extensive list.)

I’m sitting in the dining hall, using only my eyes to watch Snow while I play with my food. He’s laughing and smiling with Bunce and Wellbelove. His smile is like the sun. Bright, shining, and painful if you stare at it too long. But I want to keep looking. I never want to stop.

“Crowley,” I mutter, “I need to sort out my head.”

I’ll go to the catacombs tonight. Walk around in those dusty caverns, drain some rats, and try to rid myself of these stupid feelings. I can’t be in the room. Snow’s mere presence envelops my brain in a fog. As long as Snow isn’t around, I can really think.

**Author's Note:**

> Oh Baz, hun, hate to break it to you, but Simon has no fucking sense in fifth year. Like none. Anyway, hope you all liked it :D


End file.
